|
Just off from the Trades Way, near the Market
is a Forge. The door opens and there can be seen many tools hanging up on many shelves. In one end is the forge itself. The
great oven burning hot day and night, all year through. Just beside is is the anvil and there, working diligently at
her craft is a woman in a leather apron, her hair tied up in a rag that covers her ears slightly also. Her shirt sleeves
have been hacked off, instead, thick leather gloves holding tongs and a rod of metal that glows from the heat of the forge
is being hammered rhythmically. She looks up at you, her eyes brown as she regards you silently. Then motions you closer.
| The Falchion |
|
|
